


Ready Aim Fire

by RattyCatty



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Guns, I know nothing about guns, Sexual Tension, Tropey as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:41:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3739339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RattyCatty/pseuds/RattyCatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma teaches Regina to fire a gun when Henry goes missing and Regina can't access her magic. Based on the 4x19 promo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready Aim Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the promo for 4x19 because the idea of Regina with a gun makes me weak and I love tropes. I know absolutely nothing about guns - my limited knowledge is from TV and all that Resident Evil fanfic I used to read, so I apologise for any inaccuracies.
> 
> Feedback is super. Enjoy~

Before Rumple sets her lose on the world, he snaps a thick leather cuff onto her wrist – the same one she'd worn when the Home Office had tortured her and then kidnapped Henry. "It's just a precaution," he says in that infuriatingly light voice, with a smile twisting the corners of his lips up and a glint in his piercing eyes. He doesn't want to risk her getting away from him and finding a way to weasel her way out of their 'deal', so he takes away her weapon of choice.

It does an effective job, Regina muses as she heads down the street towards the Charming apartment; she can feel unease setting in due to the lack of the comforting tingle of magic in her veins. Or rather, it's still there, physically – just without the connection to her being, like a battery that's not connected to a circuit. It's a thick substance sitting inside her, aching to be used but unable to find something to be used by.

It's uncomfortable, that's for sure, but it's not truly a bother until she and Emma are sitting across from each other at the kitchen island and they get a video message from their son – their son and Cruella De Vil.

He's trying so hard to stay calm, Regina can tell – he got that from her – but there's fear in his eyes, and he stumbles over his words, as if he knows that he's leading them into a trap. It's a trap that he knows both his mothers will willingly walk right into if there's a chance it will save him, and he hates that – hates that his moms would put themselves in danger like that just to save him. That's just how they are though, always risking everything for him and putting themselves on the line. They're heroes – _both_ of them, regardless of what Regina thinks of herself.

Henry's saying something about being careful, but Regina's heard everything she needs to hear and her mind is filled with one thought only: _Save Henry._

The cogs in her brain are spinning, spinning, spinning, formulating a plan to grab Henry and get out with minimal damage to herself and Emma. To be truthful, she's not so worried about herself getting injured – if they rescue Henry, anything is worth it – but Henry will never forgive her if she lets something happen to Emma.

She thinks absently that she'd also hate for anything to happen to Emma, but tamps down on that thought quickly. Protecting Emma is the right thing to do, and so she'll do it; there's nothing personal in it for her.

Said blonde grabs her attention by barking her name and beginning to put forth ideas on how to get their son back.

Their plan is fairly simple; Emma will distract Cruella in whatever way possible, be it conversation or physical combat, and Regina will grab Henry and run, hopefully with Emma following close behind. Regina doesn't like it, but it's the best they can come up with in a short amount of time.

"Regina, you can protect you and Henry if it comes to that, right?" Emma asks with wide, nervous eyes. The stress is getting to her and it's plain to see, even if she is trying to be strong right now.

The brunette narrows her eyes. "It won't come to that. You're not getting hurt," she says firmly.

The blonde watches Regina for a second, and then nods quickly, as if that's what she meant along and she hadn't been hinting at the prospect of her getting injured to the point where she can't protect everyone. "Right," she agrees. "But in case I can't hold this bitch's attention?"

"I…" Regina trails off, deciding it would be best to simply show Emma the cuff rather than trying to explain it. She rolls up the sleeve of her cream sweater to reveal the wide leather band. When Emma just stares at it blankly, Regina explains, "I don't have magic."

Emma considers asking a question, but quickly decides they don't have time for that. There's a son they need to rescue, and time isn't a luxury they have right now. She meets Regina's eye. "That's alright," she says. "We can work with that."

* * *

They're outside, standing on the small lawn behind the apartment building. The green space serves as a garden, but the building's other resident are nowhere to be seen for the moment. Satisfied the place is clear of people, the blonde turns to the confused mayor.

Emma presses a gun into Regina's hand. The heavy steel feels cold and oily, and it's everything Regina would expect something made purely for killing to be. Even after being mayor of this town for almost three decades and working closely with the armed sheriff department, she's never touched one of these things. Yet now she's expected to use one in a rescue mission that could injure or kill both of them. It's rather overwhelming.

"If everything goes to plan, you won't have to use it," Emma reassures her as if sensing the older woman's apprehension. "It's just a precaution."

The brunette nods, her anxiety dulled a little. However her stomach still feels like it's full of butterflies and her heart is in her throat. "Emma, I've never–"

"Fired a gun before?" She nods understandingly. "There's not a lot to it. Easier than magic," she says with a small smile meant to soothe Regina's nerves a little. The corners of Regina's mouth twitch upwards despite herself and the crappy situation.

"First thing: never point the gun at something you don't wanna shoot," Emma tells her. Regina rolls her eyes at that because _everybody_ knows that. Rumple had told her the same thing when learning to throw fireballs.

Then Emma unholsters her own gun and shows the brunette the correct stance and grip. Regina studies the blonde's position – something in the back of her mind hums appreciatively when her eyes rake over toned thighs and strong arms – and then carefully imitates the pose the best she can. The blonde looks over her position, and then nods in satisfaction. "Good," she praises.

It's a small win, Regina thinks, but she's not going to celebrate just yet. She has yet to attempt to shoot the damn thing, and that might be an entirely different story.

"Flick the safety off when you're gonna shoot something," Emma instructs. "If that little red light is on, you're good to go."

The brunette obediently flicks the catch and glances at the blonde. "Now what?"

"Alright, we're gonna try and hit that tree," Emma says and points at a thick oak down the end of the garden. "Line up your aim. Use your other hand to help steady your aim," she orders, watching Regina carefully from behind her.

Regina focuses on the centre of the tree trunk, concentrates on hitting the target. This is possibly the worst time to do this, when she hasn't got her magic to stop the bullet if it goes wildly off-course. Then again, they wouldn't be doing this if she did have her magic.

Her hands shake a little with the mix of fear for her son's life and thrill (or possibly more fear) of using a gun. She steadies them as best as she can and then presses down on the trigger.

The shot rings out, loud and resonating, and Regina can't stop herself from flinching at the sound. There are a lot of things in this world that are louder and more alarming than things in the Enchanted Forest, and this is one. She tells herself that if all those years ago, she could stop jumping every time toast popped out of the toaster, she could stop flinching when she fired a gun. Her brain tells her it's not really the same thing – one has the power to kill someone with one blow and the other makes breakfast.

The bullet cuts through the air and lands itself in the side of the tree. Another centimetre out and she would have missed completely.

"You sure this is your first time?" Emma teases with an impressed smirk. "That was a pretty good first effort."

"I want to go again," Regina says flatly, staring at the little hole in the tree. It might be good for a first attempt, but it's not going to be good enough in a real fight.

Emma nods. "Sure."

Regina lines up her aim once more, being sure to aim a little further to the right. She pulls the trigger again, and this time, her flinch is a little less violent. The tiny bit of metal flies across the garden and drills into the tree once more. It's a bit closer to the centre, but it's about five inches too far to the right. She huffs in frustration.

"Regina," Emma interrupts, aware of the other woman's mounting annoyance. "You're doing alright."

"'Alright' isn't going to be enough to save our son, Miss Swan. 'Alright' is not going to put that bitch down. 'Alright' is going to get all three of us killed if it's all we have to rely on," Regina snaps, lowering the gun and spinning to face the blonde. Her hands shake beside her and she's unsure whether it's because of fear or rage – not that it matters, because both will fuel her.

The sheriff nods. "I know," she murmurs, green eyes connecting with deep brown ones. Something passes between them for a minute, and it seems to blunt the brunette's anger. "Try again," Emma allows.

Begrudgingly, Regina resumes her position and lifts the gun again. She freezes when she feels the blonde's front pressed against her back. "Emma–"

"Relax," Emma breathes, and Regina shivers at the sensation of hot breath against the shell of her ear. It's been way too long if _Emma Swan_ is affecting her in such a way.

"You're shaking." Emma reaches around the brunette's body and places her hands over Regina's trembling ones. "That's not gonna help."

"It's not really something I can control," Regina grumbles, ignoring how pleasant Emma's skin feels on hers.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry," the blonde mumbles. "That'll get better with practice. You'll get more comfortable."

"Right." Regina clears her throat as Emma's fingers rub across small, soothing circles across olive skin.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

"Go for it," Emma encourages.

Regina swallows, drags her attention away from the feel of the blonde's body against hers, and focuses on the weapon in her hands. She aims and then fires before she has time to question herself.

The shot flies home and lands dead in the centre of the oak tree. Regina's mouth drops open as she stares at the miniscule hole. _She did it._ The feeling is something like the feeling she had as a young girl when she conjured her first decent fireball – a combination of shock, excitement, and _pride._ She hasn't _truly_ felt the latter for a while and she savours the feeling.

"Congratulations," Emma commends in a low, husky voice, right beside her ear. If their son weren't in danger, Regina might actually be aroused. Even now, goose bumps rise across her skin.

She lowers the gun, flicks the safety on, and turns to face the blonde. She steps out of her arms – rather reluctantly – and fixes the blonde with a look of determination. "Let's go and rescue our son."


End file.
